


The Land We Built Together

by Kuzuriolu



Series: Ocean's Breeze [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Birthday, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Family, Growing Old Together, Old Married Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:20:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26717383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuzuriolu/pseuds/Kuzuriolu
Summary: Dorothea celebrates her seventy-fifth birthday alongside her beloved wife and their loving family.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Petra Macneary
Series: Ocean's Breeze [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1914241
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	The Land We Built Together

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic is a continuation [of the fanfic I wrote for Petra's birthday](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26343544) and directly references it, so I'd recommend reading it beforehand. It also takes place in the future of Love and the Ocean's Breeze, but you can still read this if you haven't read that. Contains references to a few of my child OCs, and there's also some grandchildren I made for the purpose of this fanfic.

**The Twenty-Ninth Day of the Horsebow Moon, Imperial Year 1236**

Birthdays were no longer something Dorothea considered special to her. She had seventy-four of them in the past, and for her seventy-fifth, she hadn’t requested anything in particular. Of course she could ask for new sets of jewelry made by the finest in all of Brigid, or perhaps a colorful dress woven with the softest silks, but by now, Dorothea owned many closets chock-full of all the clothing and accessories she could ever dream of. As the former queen consort of Brigid, she owned many prized possessions worth almost all the gold in the archipelago, but none, of course, could be more precious than her most beloved treasures: her wife, and the beautiful family they had raised together.

The sun was shining that day, as it usually did during the Horsebow Moon. The effects of summer were beginning to fade, but the tropical archipelago was still sweltering with heat. Surely, Fódlan had now succumbed to that autumn’s chill, but it had been  _ years _ since Dorothea had set foot there, so she could only imagine. She woke up to the sound of bustle outside her room and an empty space beside her. 

“Petra…?” she called gently to her wife, but found she was nowhere in their bedroom. She turned her head to the window to gauge the time, and guessed it was about an hour before noon. After Petra had stepped down from the throne and placed her crown upon their eldest daughter’s head, Dorothea had fallen into a routine of leisure. She woke up late and went to bed whenever she so pleased, and Petra had mostly followed suit, save for days where she craved an early-morning hunt. She rubbed her wrinkled temples and sighed as she leaned back against her pillow, gray hair splaying out in all different directions. Surely her dearest wife had awoken already to make preparations for her birthday, an assumption that was supported by all the noise coming from the hallway. 

Though her five children had all gone their separate ways, all of them would find their way back to the castle during the Horsebow Moon to celebrate their parents’ birthdays, and would bring alongside them their own families. Indeed, their abode was certainly crowded, and her younger grandchildren could be quite noisy.

Her moment alone was quite suddenly interrupted by the slow creaking of her door. Her visitors did not announce themselves and instead did their best to creep around the bed as silently as possible.

“ _ Papa said grandmama kept her fishing supplies in here, _ ” a young girl’s voice whispered,  _ “be careful, we don’t wanna wake grandma… _ ”

“ _ Okay, okay, you’re being too loud, _ ” a second girl complained, “ _ c’mon, let’s just—eep! _ Grandma, you’re awake?”

Dorothea’s withered features managed a smile at the sight of her two eldest grandchildren, both of them looking thoroughly surprised that they had been caught. Two sets of blue eyes bore into her with panic. 

“You woke her up!” accused the younger one, an ten-year-old girl called Seána with twin burgundy braids. 

“I did not!” retorted the older one, a twelve-year-old girl named Ciara who kept her similarly-colored hair in a single braid. 

“I was already awake, girls,” Dorothea told both of them softly with a light hush, extinguishing their quarrel before it could escalate. “Now what is it you were looking for, my darlings?”

The two sisters exchanged a look. “W...Well, since we’re all going to the beach for your birthday, Papa said he would take us fishing, but only if we got him the supplies since he was busy cooking—oh, wait, I don’t think I was supposed to tell you that part…” Ciara hastily explained.

“Ciara wants to know where grandmama keeps her fishing supplies,” summarized Seána. 

“The closet on the left,” Dorothea answered while beaming at the sight of her beloved grandchildren, finding their antics to be nothing short of adorable. 

“Yay, thanks!” cheered Ciara, and she and her younger sister rushed to finish their task.

Dorothea closed her eyes and sighed wistfully as she listened to her granddaughters rifle through the contents of Petra’s closet. There were a few concerning clatters here and there as supplies tumbled out and scattered, followed by loud exclamations from both granddaughters as they hurriedly shoved everything back where it belonged. It was not a mistake that took them very long to correct, for about five minutes later, both girls had procured three fishing rods. But there was something  _ else _ they had grabbed.

“Hey, what’s this weird box?” Seána asked no one in particular. Before she could even get an answer, she clicked open its tiny lock. 

“Whoa, are these fishing lures? They look really old!” Ciara marveled. “Gimme that, Seána.”

Within a moment, Ciara had snatched up the box from her younger sister. She promptly scurried over to her grandmother’s bed and plopped it down upon the edge. “Grandma, grandma, look what Seána and I found!”

Dorothea’s eyes opened once more to find her eldest grandchild gazing at her with eager eyes, and next to her, a wide-open wooden box. Inside were four familiar lures carved exceptionally-well into the shape of a fish, each one painted differently. By now, the wood had worn and the paint had faded and chipped, but they were still recognizable. A wide grin spread from ear to ear across Dorothea’s face, and she laughed softly as fond memories flooded back to her. 

“I made these for your Grandmama for her birthday many, many years ago,” she recalled, “it was the first time I had ever tried wood carving. I worked together with your aunts and your father to paint them. We painted one each.”

Ciara gasped. “Papa did? Which one did he paint?” she inquired.

Dorothea reached over and tapped the fourth lure. It was sloppily painted with blue and random dots of other vivid colors that did not match the rest, and a thick black smile. “He must have been… oh, four years old? Erm, three?” she guessed, “I had to help him.”

“It’s so silly!” giggled Ciara, “but I like the first one best! The one with all the pretty sunset colors!”

“Wait, lemme see!” Seána shouted, and stumbled over to look as well. Once she set eyes upon her father’s creation, she laughed. “He made the fish grin!”

“He did, he did,” replied Dorothea with an amused smile. Her sweet little Cairbre had been so  _ tiny _ then, and she had to help him hold the paintbrush properly so he didn’t stain the entire room with uncontrolled splatters. Now, Cairbre stood a good six and a half feet tall and had two wonderful daughters, who he worked hard for every single day. 

Oh, where had all that time gone?

“Can we use ‘em? Please?” pleaded Seána.

“They’re too old! They’re not gonna work!” argued Ciara.

“Ciara is right, dear. These are precious to your Grandmama, and it would be a shame if they got lost,” Dorothea told her younger granddaughter delicately, “I’m sure there are plenty of other lures that will be even more effective at catching fish.”

Seána looked visibly disappointed, but she understood her grandmother’s sentiment. “Awww, okay. I’ll put it back,” she muttered.

“Ooh, doesn’t Papa have some lucky lures? Let’s see if he’ll let us use them!” Ciara piped up. 

“That’s a good idea! I’ll ask him!”

“Good! But let’s put away these first, okay?” 

“Okay!” cheered Seána.

Both granddaughters returned the old box to its rightful place inside the closet, all the while chattering with each other about all the fish they were surely going to catch. After they were done, they gathered their rods and began to retreat out of the room.

“Oh—wait! I forgot!” exclaimed Ciara, sliding to a halt just before the door, “happy birthday, Grandma! I love you!”

“Me too, me too! Happy birthday!” shouted Seána.

“Thank you, my beautiful granddaughters,” beamed Dorothea, feeling her chest swell with pride.

“You’re welcome! Now we gotta go finish up, c’mon!”

And with that, the two girls left.

* * *

As Dorothea lounged on her brightly-colored towel laid upon the sandy Brigid beach, she listened contently to the cheers of her numerous grandchildren as they played along the shoreline. They shouted in delight at each wave that came crashing down over them and laughed as they chased the tide back into the ocean. Such simple pleasures were of the utmost joy to the young grandchildren who lived completely carefree in a peaceful world forged by the hands of their hardworking grandmothers. They’d never known anything but this new, completely free Brigid, and would hopefully never have to endure through the terrors of war like the one that had paved their future.

Beside Dorothea was none other than her cherished wife Petra Macneary, brandishing a wide grin as she too watched her grandchildren. Pale pink eyes glimmered with nostalgia within the sun’s rays. Though the color in her hair had faded to a silvery gray and her body bore many wrinkles, looking at her now, Dorothea still felt her heart flutter. She reached to wrap an arm around her beloved’s back, an action that received a happy sigh.

“Our grandchildren look very happy,” Petra observed, “I am thankful it is such a beautiful day today. I would be upset with the spirits if they had made your birthday rainy.”

“Yes,” agreed Dorothea. She watched as her eight-year-old grandson—who was now the crown prince of Brigid—stumbled upon a shimmering seashell and held it to the sun with an exuberant grin as the tide tickled his feet. “It’s lovely to have the whole family together… I know our children have their own lives and families now, but I do wish we could have them altogether more often than just for a moon....”

Petra nodded, and leaned into her wife’s shoulder. She closed her eyes briefly and allowed herself to bask in the feeling of simply  _ being _ with her dearest Dorothea. “It will be a shame to see everyone leave tomorrow, but I am glad we get this moon to see how much our family has grown.”

“They have grown quite a bit indeed! Cairbre was telling me about how Seána’s learned to cast all sorts of spells, and to think that she was only a baby in his arms a decade ago…” reminisced Dorothea. “She’s such a talented child... all our grandchildren are, actually.” 

By the ocean, Eithne—their eldest daughter and the new queen of Brigid—had decided to join the children and was listening as her son blabbered on about the seashell he had found, all while the others continued to splash about. Eithne took the shell in the palm of her hands and praised the little boy before leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. He laughed brightly and hugged his mother as tightly as he could manage, resting his head against her growing stomach. 

The precious sight drew a sole tear from Dorothea’s eye, which trickled down her wrinkled skin. Before it could roll off of her chin, Petra’s soft lips kissed it away. 

“We have created such a wonderful family together, Dorothea,” Petra whispered to her, her voice softer than the ocean’s breeze, “and the future we have forged is beautiful. Thank you, my beloved, for sharing it with me.”

Dorothea’s fingers tangled in Petra’s grayed hair, and she lost herself in her gorgeous wife’s gaze. Sixty-five years ago, she had been a starving street orphan begging for scraps in the dark alleyways of Enbarr, and now, she was a retired queen, a mother to five children, and grandmother to so many more. There were so many different directions her life could have gone, so many terrible turns for the worse, but she had evaded them all. 

“We really are incredible, aren’t we?” laughed Dorothea, pressing her nose to Petra’s. “The best, in fact.”

“Yes, we are,” agreed Petra wholeheartedly, and closed the distance between them. 

The two old women melted into a kiss as the breeze carried the scent of salt from the sea and caused palm trees to stir lightly. It felt as though all of Brigid was converging just around them, celebrating them, thanking them for all they had done to bring about a peaceful future. When they finally pulled away, they gazed into each other's eyes with nothing but pure love. 

“Happy birthday, my beloved, and here is to many more,” Petra spoke before pressing a gentle kiss to Dorothea’s temple. 

“Thank you, my Petra, thank you for everything…” Dorothea uttered.

The heartfelt moment was suddenly interrupted by a loud voice calling to both of them. From across the beach, little Seána came running at them as fast as her feet would take her. When she reached them, her face was flushed red, and her chest was heaving as she sought to catch her breath. “Grandmas! Ciara caught a HUGE squid, like, THIS big!” She demonstrated by spreading her arms out as wide as she could manage. “Papa is going to carry it over right now! Will you have some, please? I helped catch it, too!”

Dorothea pulled away from her wife and beamed while nodding enthusiastically. “Of course, dear, of course. We’ll have a birthday feast.”

Seána looked absolutely delighted. “Okay! I’m gonna tell everyone else right now!” she blurted out, and without waiting a moment longer, turned and ran towards where her cousins were playing.

Petra giggled at the sight of her energetic granddaughter. “She reminds me of me when I was a child,” she commented. 

“Does she now?” hummed Dorothea. “Well, I’m going to go see if Cairbre needs help with dinner. I’ll be right back, love.” 

She began to stand, but Petra placed a hand firmly upon her shoulder and shook her head. “No, it is your day, Dorothea. Just relax, and I will help, alright?” she insisted.

“Alright, my darling,” relented Dorothea, “but don’t be too long, alright? I want to spend as much time as possible with you.”

Even though they had been married for decades now, the remark caused Petra’s cheeks to tint with the slightest hint of pink. “Of course, my love, of course.”

Petra stood and headed to assist her son and granddaughter, who were currently hauling a sizable catch across the beach. Dorothea closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of Brigid: the roar of the waves crashing against the coast, the gentle sway of trees in the wind, the ever-growing laughter from her grandchildren as they played in the water. These were the sounds of  _ home _ , and she was ever so thankful she had found it. 

What a wonderful life she had lived thus far, she thought to herself. She could only hope the next life she shared with Petra would be just as fantastic.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. As always, I'd love if you could leave a comment and/or a kudo if you enjoyed. I'm hoping to write some more for Halloween this year, hopefully I will be able to! My schedule has been so incredibly busy. 
> 
> [Follow me on Twitter](https://twitter.com/voiddragoness)


End file.
